Progeny
by childoftheasylum
Summary: Skylar Napier is the daughter of Harley Quinn and the Joker. After being released from Arkham Asylum, she is unsure of whether to continue on the straight-and-narrow or follow the path set by her parents.
1. Chapter One

It was dark, cold and wet by the dumpster behind what used to be O'Shay's. The bar had been closed for about two years, and its neglected dumpster was often used for illegal dumping. The smell kept even Gotham's homeless away from the alley. It was the perfect temporary camp-out for Arkham's most recent release, Skylar Napier. After fifteen years of living as the daughter of Harley Quinn and the Joker, she had admitted herself into the Asylum, and then willingly stayed there for three years. It was difficult, and every day tested her mental limits. She had been born there. Every inch of the institution held haunting memories.

Though Skylar was cold and aching, sitting against the back wall of O'Shay's, she was unbelievably grateful to be miles away from the soul-wrenching torture that was Arkham. Still, some better surroundings would have been nice. Not to mention some company. Before Arkham, what Harley and Joker deprived her of vis-à-vis socialization, Skylar made up for with the Team. She could probably get some sympathy if she returned, but she was too humiliated to show her face. When she left for the Asylum, she knew she needed help and had to leave. But now? She was an outcast. Social leper. The kind of face people spat on. The sobering thought brought Skylar to tears.

'How pathetic am I?' she thought, hugging herself tightly. 'A lonely lunatic crying next to a dumpster behind a condemned bar.' She struggled to keep her sobs at a whisper's level, but failed. She could barely hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Skylar pressed her lips together and struggled not to make a sound. By then, however, the footsteps had already found her.

"Sky?" The voice was quickly processed in Skylar's mind. A girl's voice. Not high enough to be a child's, but not shaken or raspy enough to be anywhere over forty. A catch in the voice at the end. The girl must have had a lot of emotion attached to that name. As if it was the name of a close friend.

"Hey, Kirari." Skylar replied without looking up or missing a beat.

"Last I saw you, you were heading into Arkham. What're you doing here? Decide to follow the family tradition and break out?" Skylar winced. She knew there wasn't any malice behind the comment; nevertheless, it cut like a knife. She despised the idea of being associated with her parents' reputation.

"The purpose of my going to Arkham was to abandon the path my parents set out for me. Escaping only defeats that purpose," she said, drying the tears on her chin with her tattered sleeve.

"I know," Kirari replied quietly. "It was a joke. I was trying to make you feel better." Her eyes drifted down to examine Skylar's pitiful state. Her clothes were ripped and soiled. Her smell was nearly just as bold as that of the trash bags, one of which she was clearly using as a pillow. "Let me guess. You're coming up on six or seven days living back here?" Skylar looked up at Kirari and nodded. Her clothes were much cleaner than Skylar's. Her shoes were virtually spotless (probably new), and her hair had obviously just been done. Skylar envied her. "I wish I could help you," she said. "Maybe if you stay in my room, kind of on the down-low."

"Shut up," Skylar spat bitterly. "I don't want your pity. You've always had more than me. You've never had to worry about money like my family. You just like flaunting it."

"I'm not flaunting anything, Sky," Kirari said, grabbing Skylar's arm and lifting her up. "I'm trying to help. You can't live like this. If you don't want that help coming from me, that's fine." She paused and took the time to dust off Skylar's frail, shivering body and walk her out of the alley and into the street. The light from the streetlamps was blinding to Skylar, who instinctively shielded her face. It had been so long since her last meal, and she was therefore unbelievably weak and tired. Her body swayed with each step. Kirari helped her regain her balance. A wave of nausea swept over Skylar. Her vision blurred. She felt miserable, worthless even. "You need much more than sleep," Kirari noted sadly. "You're clearly dehydrated. And your hair looks limp. You're probably malnourished."

"I don't need you to deduce what's wrong with me," Skylar said through clenched teeth. She growled and wobbled like a drunk with blind rage. "If you really cared, you would've done something to help me by now." Kirari let out a sharp breath of air in exasperation. She was done taking pity on Skylar if all she was going to get in return was spite and bitterness. Still, she knew better than to leave her alone on the street.

"Are you and Jonathan still close?" Kirari asked. She grabbed Skylar's arm and forced her down the street to the lone blue Jeep that waited on the corner. After unlocking the doors, she let go of Skylar's arm so she could get in the car by herself. It was a struggle for the girl, since she could barely take a step without suffering the excruciating agony that followed. And the bittersweet memories that came with the mention of Jonathan's name certainly weren't painless, either.

"Crane?" Skylar managed, closing her door and buckling herself. "Yeah. But I haven't seen him since I left Arkham Asylum." She bit her lip. Skylar desperately wanted to remember Jonathan for all the good things he'd done for her, but still held the mental and physical scars from their time together. It was a dangerous relationship to be in, but she was terribly afraid of ending it. Besides, she loved him. 'Isn't that all that matters?' she thought as Kirari started the engine and started uptown. "Why does it matter?" Skylar asked while the idea of Jonathan was still fresh in her mind. Kirari looked to her right and stared at Skylar.

"Y'know, if you're trying to forget about your parents, you should probably stop tinting your hair green. You look like your dad," Kirari said coolly. Skylar frowned. This was intentional.

"It's not dye," Skylar mumbled. "It's my natural hair color." Another extended silence followed. Skylar was almost relieved when the vehicle slowed and Kirari put it into park.

"Get out," she said, staring straight ahead. Skylar looked out of the window and almost shuddered. Brick front. Grey door. Number 856.

"I can't go in th—"

"Get out. Of my car." Skylar hanged her head dejectedly, stepped out, and shut the door behind her. She heard the tires screech and pull away before she could even make it to the porch. She stood in front of the door in the dark, mind racing and palms sweating, with rain falling behind her. She couldn't stay there all night, she knew. Ironic, how fear was always the one thing that kept her a slave to this man. She held her breath and forced herself to ring the doorbell. She'd never prayed before, and even doubted the existence of a god. Yet, on that night, she prayed that there would be no answer at the door. Her lips moved with inaudible sound as she begged for some sort of mercy. She needed food, shelter, and rest, but dreaded the pain that typically came with visits to this address. She flinched at the sound of footsteps from the inside. 'Oh God, no—'

"Miss Napier," Jonathan said, opening the door. "I heard you were… in need. But, honestly, of all places, I didn't expect you to come here." She attempted a sigh, but her trembling just turned it into a frightened gasp. On hearing it, his lips slightly curled upward. He could literally sense her fear, and part of her actually enjoyed this. "You're afraid to come in, but I know you need to." He gently took her by the arm and pulled her inside. She was secretly afraid he might be able to feel her racing pulse. "You came at a bad time. I'm a bit busy right now. But you've been here enough times to know where everything is. I would rather you not bother me. When you're ready, there's a guest bedroom made." He let go of her arm, went down the nearby flight of stairs, and slammed the basement door behind him, leaving Skylar alone in the dark kitchen for the rest of the evening, which blurred into an exhausting series of fainting and vomiting episodes. Darkness was gradually replaced by the blinding sunlight that poured in from the kitchen window. As light flooded the room, Skylar could make out the objects that circled her in the corner where she laid. A cluttered plethora of snacks here, an array of half empty drinks there. And absolutely no evidence of Jonathan's presence in the room whatsoever. She smiled and let out a sigh of relief as she lifted herself from the floor. It was much easier than she expected; she must have been feeling better. After taking a moment to stretch, she turned around to pick up the trash heap she created and shrieked. He had been standing there watching her. "I meant for you to sleep in the guest room"

"I p-passed out and—a-and why… I-I was-" She clamped her mouth shut, unable to form her sentences through the stuttering.

"Did I scare you?" he asked. He stepped closer, wielding a smile that was aimed directly at her. Bad memories. Very, very bad memories. Encounters between them that began with that smile typically ended poorly. The last time she saw that smile, she ended up screaming and begging for mercy, lying pitifully in a pool of her own blood and tears. Instinct told her to take a step back, but experience said otherwise. Exposing fear would only add fuel to the fire.

"I should go now," she suddenly blurted out. The smile disappeared, and Skylar's heart dropped. She had made a mistake; this reaction was much worse. Skylar felt the slap before she heard it. His hands were coarse and felt like sandpaper on her cheek. It was quick, but Skylar would feel the pain all over the left side of her face for several minutes afterwards. She had taken harder punches before, but any attack from Jonathan always hurt worse. 'This is the price I pay,' she thought.

"And where, exactly, do you plan on going?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your parents change locations so often, you might as well be homeless. No other family. No other friends who care enough to take you in." Skylar's face went red-hot. His tone was condescending, insulting. She wasn't foolish enough to respond in kind, but the idea was terribly tempting.

"I can find somewhere to go," she responded, her voice barely a whisper. Jonathan stepped back and laughed to himself.

"You are in absolutely no condition to go anywhere," he said. "When you showed up on my porch last night, you could barely stand. And now you're going house-hunting? Absolutely not." He turned and began walking away, but paused and returned to face Skylar. "Of course, if you're that bent on leaving, I could give you some medicine. Help you recover." Her eyes widened.

"No! Not the basement!" she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was uneven. Tell-tale signs of fear. Jonathan struggled to contain himself while Skylar stood trembling in front of him. She had only been to the basement one time, and swore to herself that it would be the last. She remembered walking down the stairs with him, utterly and ridiculously oblivious to the horrors that waited behind the door. She could never forget the smell of the toxin in the air or the feeling of it crawling inside her veins. Almost as if it were living inside of her. For weeks, she kept fixating on and repeating the same name. She wouldn't dare try to remember that name now. She was already terrified. "I'll stay," she decided. She tried reading Jonathan's face for a reaction, but his expression remained emotionless. She decided to push it just a bit farther. "But I just want to let Kirari know I'm okay."

"Ah, that's right," Jonathan said, casually placing an arm around Skylar's waist and leading her out of the kitchen. "Miss Kyle dropped you off here, didn't she? I suppose it may raise a few eyebrows if she never heard from you again…" Skylar nodded quickly in agreement and placed her head on his shoulder for good measure. She liked where this was going. "Fine. Let her know you're okay. I'll clean up you're mess from last night." Skylar mentally cheered as she walked to the back to use the guest phone. She quickly dialed the number and tapped her foot anxiously, waiting for someone to answer. This had to be quick if it was going to work.

"Who is this?" Kirari said on the other end. Just like her to get straight to the point.

"Hey, it's Skylar," she said in a hurried whisper. "I'm at Crane's house right now and I'm feeling much better, but he's not letting me go. You gotta come get me."

"Ugh," Kirari groaned. "You and that man! Whatever. If abusive relationships is your thing, that's none of my business." Skylar slammed her hand on her head, exasperated.

"Would you focus?" she whispered back. "Please! Just drive over here and pick me up."

"I'm not sure if I'm feelin' it today." She added a yawn. 'This girl…' Skylar thought.

"I swear, if you don't come and get me right now, when I do finally get our, so help me I'll—" She could hear him coming. She cursed under her breath and changed topics. "So, yeah. Don't worry about me," she said in a much cheerier tone. "I'll just see ya when I see ya."

"That bad huh?" Kirari said quietly on the other end. "Look, just stay out of the line of fire until I can think up someth-"

"Kay, bye!" Skylar interrupted. She hung up the phone and tried to look as nonchalant as possible for Jonathan, who stood in the doorway.

"So how did it go?" he asked, staring blankly at her. As far as poker faces went, he always put her to shame. It made her feel so transparent.

"I had a hard time convincing her," Skylar said, walking past Jonathan and into the living room. She sat down on the couch. "She's still worried about my safety, y'know?"

"Well, so am I," he said with what, to the untrained ear, could be mistaken as sympathy. He made his way over to the couch and sat next to her. "You know that don't you?" She angled her head away to roll her eyes. 'As if he really cares,' she thought, holding back hot tears. 'He would leave me in a heartbeat just like everyone else.' He gently laced an arm around Skylar's shoulder and sighed as he stared straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought. "We can't keep doing this," he said. As he spoke, he slowly and softly made small circular motions on her upper arm with his finger. She shuddered and let her eyes flicker closed. "I really care about you, but if you keep resisting, I'm just going to have to force you. Everything I do is in your best interests."

"I guess," Skylar said, mustering up the courage to continue. "It's just that…"

"Yeah?" he said. His tone carried a subliminal warning, but Skylar only recognized it after the words had escaped her lips.

"I don't really like you controlling me. I feel inferior." She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. Those words had struck a nerve. She was sure of it. What she was unsure of was how far she had pushed him. His fingers froze on her arm, but she could still feel him breathing just as steadily as he had been before. Her hear t pounded in anxiety, increasing in speed as the seconds passed. The longer it took for him to take action, the worse the punishment would probably be. He removed his arm from her shoulder, slipped his glasses off his nose, folded them, and placed them on the table beside him.

"I would think you'd be grateful," he sighed. "I know how badly you crave attention after years of living with Harley and Joker. I'm here to provide that. But, of course, your background probably makes it hard for you to think clearly, doesn't it?" he put a hand on Skylar's chin and brought her face up to meet his eyes. "That can easily be remedied." He stood and took Skylar's hand to lead her towards the stairs. As soon as his hand touched hers, her entire body tensed. She'd gone too far.

"No," she choked out, pulling away. The harder she struggled, the tighter Jonathan gripped her. "Stop!" she yelled, clawing at his hands. A single tear rolled as she was lifted helplessly into his arms. His free hand covered Skylar's mouth to stifle the screams. He walked quickly, only pausing at the foot of the stairs to open the basement door. He stepped inside and tossed her body onto the cold, concrete floor. Her body lay limp and crumpled on the floor while Jonathan locked the door.

And then he grabbed the mask.

Skylar instantly jumped up and backed away, her body suddenly filled with adrenaline. "Just calm down," she said. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"Your alleged remorse means nothing to me," he scoffed his voice barely recognizable behind the filters in his mask. "I am sick and tired of doing favors for an ungrateful child that's too ignorant to recognize their value. Now it's become clear to me that you need someone to help you come to your senses." Skylar tried to back away, unaware that she was already in the corner, and slammed her head against the wall. She could hear her skull throbbing. He slowly walked closer, savoring the sight of Skylar cornered and frightened. He held her face in his hands. "Shhh… Just breathe slowly." He slowly waved his wrist over her mouth and nose, forcing her to inhale the toxin, and stepped back to admire his work.

Skylar fell to her knees and pulled at her hair while waging a brutal war with her own thoughts. She could feel him-the Scarecrow-watching her, surrounding her. With the gas slowly lulling her into a state of helplessness, she was like putty in his hands. The sound of laughter droned on in her head like the sound of rolling waves. She moaned loudly, desperately trying to drown out the nonexistent noises. One blink, and instantly the mask was hovering over her. She screamed and yelled until she became hoarse.

"No one can hear you." The sound came from the mask, and echoed in her ear for what seemed like millennia, though she had lost all sense of time. In reality, the seconds continued ticking on as they had before. But in her mind, it was as if Time had stopped Herself for the sole purpose of savoring the moment. The mask came in closer until it was inches from her face. A pair of arms scooped her up and began carrying her off into what looked like endless darkness. She relaxed her neck and let her head drop. And as the world faded around her, she was bid a gentle goodbye by the sound of chimes in the distance.

_**-End of Chapter One-**_


	2. Chapter Two, Part One

Skylar was shaken violently out of sleep in a cold sweat by the sound of yelling. Multiple voices simultaneously expressed their rage downstairs in a room directly below her. It was unpleasant, but familiar. She looked around the room. Every inch of the walls was covered with a poster of some sort. Useless junk and trash cluttered all of the tables, less the nightstand, which only held a mini-fridge and microwave. Her own bed seemed to be more blankets than mattress, and looked like a bunk. The nightstand and drawers were placed so that the bed was boxed in on both sides. Across from the bed and squarely in front of the rug was a large collection of electronics. Two televisions, two laptops, a box of tablets and smartphones, and a small entertainment center full of video games. And on the rug, sprawled out with controller in hand was Kirari. Skylar let out a sigh of relief and fell back onto the pillow.

The previous night was a blur. She could still feel those arms holding her. And as the chimes sounded, the arms held her tighter, almost defensively.

"I'm not going to let them take you." Comforting words from such an ominous voice. One hand rubbed her back consolingly while the other continued to support her as they made their way deeper into the house. And, as if on cue, there was a sudden blinding light and a deafening crash. She remembered the bitter, metallic taste of blood as she was frantically thrown around. Those arms struggled desperately to shelter her, to protect her. But she was violently ripped away from their grasp. She could remember an attempt to break free, but she was too weak to do any damage. And that was all she could recollect.

"Remember this place?" Kirari asked, shaking Skylar out of her thoughts. She looked around the room. Something about the place did seem to touch her personally, but it pained her to try to remember why. As if those memories had been locked away deep in the retreats of her soul.

"Sort of," she admitted. "But I can't…" She trailed off, unsure of whether to confide in Kirari.

"Can't what?" she pushed.

"Nothing," she sighed. It was too difficult. Maybe another time. "Where are we?"

"You don't remember that room we made above me and my mom's place?" It sounded like it could have been true, but she honestly lacked the ability to recall it.

"Uh, yeah. Wait, yeah, I do," she lied. Kirari got up and walked over to sit on Skylar's bed. She sat there for a while, biting her lip anxiously with furrowed eyebrows. It was more than obvious that she was turning something over in her mind. Kirari opened her mouth a couple of times to speak, but decided against it until she could properly express her sentiments.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "When I picked you up, I knew you must've been… terribly upset. And I got frustrated so easily. I was just desperate to get you off my hands. I wasn't thinking. I know I should've taken you here first." Her glassy, bloodshot eyes were aimed straight at the ground.

"It wasn't that bad."

"When I got you in my car, you had a bloody mouth, several bruises, and you were barely conscious," she snapped. "Don't you dare tell me 'it wasn't that bad'."

"I think he was trying to protect me," Skylar said, her voice wavering. "His intentions are noble; he just gets carried away easily."

"As if his intentions even matter," she scoffed. The yelling downstairs was gradually getting louder.

"Who's down there?" Skylar asked. Kirari shrugged the question away and mumbled. Skylar slid out of the bottom bunk and stood up to face Kirari. "Look, I appreciate your apology, and I appreciate you bringing me here. But I know what it felt like to have Jonathan holding me. He cares."

"So, what, you're going back?"

"No, I—I don't want to," Skylar said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm just looking for a place where I feel…cared for. And I love you but we're so different; every time we're together, we fight. I need a place where I can get myself together in peace." The sound of yelling and footsteps filled the awkward silence. The floor shook with the sound of a deafening slam.

"Stop," a woman's voice yelled as the door to the room swung open. The handle slammed into the wall behind it and left a gaping hole. The woman, hidden from sight, cursed under her breath. Kirari quietly repeated similar sentiments. Neither sound registered with Skylar. Every inch of her body went cold and numb. She was too focused on the figure in the doorway; she had to remind herself to breathe. He was lanky with a ghostly complexion. His limp, emerald hair lay draped over his forehead, almost in his eyes. There were thick black circles smudged around those eyes that seemed to blend with the darkness in the room. And his face was adorned with a blood-red smile that was ear to ear. It sent a chill straight to her bones. The face stifled a laugh. An evil, cynical, familiar laugh.

"Sweetie." The one word hung in the air. The color drained from Skylar's face until she was as white as the figure in front of her. The room suddenly seemed as hot as the fiery pits of hell. She attempted to yell, but it came out as a timid croak. Her voice was gone, as was her spirit. If she could hide, she would, but there was nowhere to go. His spider-venom eyes were locked directly onto hers, and her line of sight was centered on his wide, toothy grin. It was so mesmerizing, she had to restrain herself when she began to feel the edges of her mouth curl upwards in response.

"You're not wanted here," Kirari answered for her friend.

"Oh, Miss Kyle, how well do you really know this girl?" he said. He took a single step and began to rock backwards and forwards, from his heels to his toes. "You and your mother are really just preventing this girl from receiving the attention and care she so desperately needs."

"You're the one she's running from," Kirari said.

"I said I'd give her what she needs, not what she wants." He then shrugged. "But I suppose that if she's that adamant about it, we should give her a chance to speak." Skylar's lips slowly parted. No sound. Not even a syllable. She hung her head, helpless and a bit disconcerted.

"She's too scared." Kirari came to her defense. "It's too much of a shock."

"Well, if she can't tell me what she wants, then I suppose it's up to the parent to decide what's best," he said, laughing. He reached out and grabbed a fist full of Skylar's hair, dragging her along. It hurt, but she couldn't find her voice to scream. She silently cried as she was pulled down the stairs. She wondered where Kirari's mother was. She hadn't had many conversations with her, but she was praying for her help. Nevertheless, Selina was nowhere to be seen. Kirari ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, gun in hand.

"Stop!" she yelled as they ran through the living room and headed towards the foyer. She fired, aiming for Joker's head, but missed and hit a nearby vase. Shards of glass and water flew in different directions, showering the entire room. One of the larger shards flew towards Kirari and sliced its way into her arm. It made a considerably large gash, and drops of her blood poured from her arm onto the crisp, snow-white carpet. She paused and grabbed her arm instinctively, giving the Joker the time he needed to run out of the house, still pulling his daughter along. A black van was parked conspicuously outside the house. He pulled her close and threw open the passenger door.

"Get inside," he yelled, throwing Skylar in. Her head hit something sharp and sent a wave of pain all through her. It was too intense. She threw up, crying and still trying to scream. The can door slammed shut behind her, and she sat up in the seat, tired of struggling. Her father rushed into the truck, started it, and drove as quickly as he possibly could. The smile still remained on his brutally scarred lips. Skylar quietly mumbled inarticulate speech, struggling to regain her voice. Her words came out as a timid whisper, and she fought back nausea with every word.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, considering the trouble I had to go through, I should just take you to Jonny's. After all, I do owe him for tipping me off after you left." Skylar cringed. So much for him caring about her. And after the scene she'd caused the other night, she dreaded to think about how angry Jonathan would probably be. "Still, I'm nothing if not a family man, so I'll try to show a little restraint. But until I can permanently dump you somewhere, I've got business to take care of at home." Skylar scoffed. As if anyone could ever use the word 'home' to describe that accursed island. They were approaching the bridge to Arkham Island. Few ever traveled the path, even if it was only the afternoon. Skylar cracked the window to let in a breeze. It was a nice distraction, but the air did little to help her. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the world around her. Some time passed. She still stared at the black emptiness behind her eyelids, hoping for some sort of miracle to deliver her.

"A little different from when you left, isn't it?" Skylar opened her eyes and looked at what had become of the asylum. It was shrouded in darkness by looming storm clouds and tree branches. It was almost as if the building had its own dark aura. But that was normal. What she really noticed were the crowds of insane inmates roaming around the dilapidated premises. They were all aimlessly attacking the air, screaming in blind rage. When they saw the van approaching, a few tore off from the pack and ran in front of the van. He didn't slow down. The can hit the bodies with such force; she could hear and feel the snapping of human bones. She peered into the rearview mirror and stared at the trail of blood tracked by the van's tires. She wished she felt something, but it didn't seem to bother her. Bloodshed was natural. "Welcome to the new and improved Arkham Asylum! Now under new management!" he said, putting the van into park. "Get out."

Skylar slid out of the van, shut the door behind her, and followed her father up the steps, which reeked of human feces. A pair of dry, callused hands grabbed her neck from behind and pulled her backwards. Their long, untrimmed nails pierced her flesh. Thick, warm droplets of blood crawled down her neck as she was thrown onto the ground. A crazed patient loomed over her and swung at her face relentlessly, spitting and cursing. She delivered a swift and powerful kick to his chest and knocked him onto the floor. She relished the feeling. It had been a while since she felt the rush that came with violence. She produced a knife from inside her sleeve, a trick she had learned from her father. She took the blade to his neck and smiled as his racing heart pumped blood out of the fresh wound and onto the grass. She returned the blade to its place and stepped back to admire her work. He was still struggling, but it wouldn't be long before he was dead, anyway. She took a step on his chest and face and continued walking into the asylum to look for her father, who had left her behind.


End file.
